


Ours Will Not Be A Happy End

by crypticorvid



Series: Tales from Esempe [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Childhood Friends, Chronic Illness, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Enemies to Friends?, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, JSchlatt is a troubled little ram, Mentioned family issues, Sympathetic Jshlatt, but not inherently good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28112751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crypticorvid/pseuds/crypticorvid
Summary: From friends, to family, to the worst of enemies. An exploration of Schlatt and Wilbur throughout the years.
Relationships: Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot
Series: Tales from Esempe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051805
Comments: 5
Kudos: 68





	1. Strangers

Wilbur is positively  _ ecstatic _ . His family almost never visits town - with good reason his father assures him - and the sheer amount of sounds, smells and colors are making his head spin. Across the street from the soldier’s barracks is a bakery that stands almost twice Wilbur’s height, the clear glass displaying elaborate cakes and pastries that must have taken hours to perfect. The scent of fresh bread has his feet moving without his permission and before he has a mind to tell his father where he was going, Wilbur finds himself opening the heavy door to the bakery.

It smells even better inside, the scents of fresh apple pies and cinnamon buns hanging heavy in the air. As he wanders around the shelves, Wilbur comes to the realization that he isn't carrying nearly enough money to buy anything for himself. Cursing his lack of foresight, the young boy lets out a heavy sigh and makes his way towards the door, preparing himself mentally to beg his father for some coin. 

To his immense surprise, a hand closes around his wrist and, before he can properly react, a small package is placed in his open palm. Whipping around in surprise, Wilbur is greeted by a boy who couldn't be much older than he was with unruly brown hair and the nubs of a pair of horns protruding from his forehead. The boy motions for him to open the package with a nervous smile, the hem of his sky blue sweater held tightly in his hands.

Wilbur unwraps the present with all the grace of a ten year old on his birthday, and breaks out in a near blinding smile as he is met with a stack of still-warm chocolate cookies. To his delight the boy smiles back and seems to relax a bit, then immediately turns to leave. 

“Wait!” Wilbur winces as his voice comes out much too loud, “We can share?” To prove his point Wilbur offers one of the cookies in an open palm with a wide smile. 

“. . . okay,” the boy nods timidly, “Follow me.” He slips one of his hands into Wilbur’s and pulls him out of the store, leading him down an alleyway and pausing in front of a flimsy-looking ladder with a toothy grin. “It's safe, I promise.” 

The view from the roof is incredible, just high enough to catch a glimpse of the strings of lanterns that light the streets but not high enough that Wilbur finds himself shying away from the edge. His new friends settles at the very edge of the roof, legs dangling in the gentle wind without a shred of fear. 

“I’m Wilbur,” he says as perches carefully next to the other boy, “What’s your name?”

“Oh!” The boy slaps a hand against his forehead and laughs, “I’m Schlatt.”

“Do you live here? ‘Cause I've always wanted to visit here and it's so pretty-” Wilbur knows he's rambling but he’s just so  _ excited _ . 

“Yeah, I do.” Schlatt cuts him off with a kind smile, “I could show you around if you want?”

“ _ Could you?!”  _ Wilbur’s voice comes out as more of a squeak than a voice, “My dad and brother are always so busy and neither of them will give me a tour!”

Schlatt curls in on himself as he laughs, leaning against Wilbur’s shoulder as the force of his laughter nearly knocks him over. Eventually he manages to regain his breath and nods at Wilbur with a wide smile. “I can definitely give you a tour,” he looks down at the street and then up at the setting sun, “But we should probably tell your dad where you are, before he comes looking for you.”

“Oh shit,” Wilbur shoves what remains of his cookie into his mouth and scrambles to his feet, “Dad’s gonna kill me!” He bolts down the ladder and rushes into the street, Schlatt laughing softly as he follows.


	2. Acquaintances

He doesn't see Schlatt for a few years after that, Phil and Techno being much too busy with  _ something  _ that he wasn't privy to and never offering to take Wilbur back into town. 

By the time he's able to visit again he's sixteen and pissed off at the world. Techno's gone, joined up with the local lord's army, and Phil is wallowing in his own self hatred. 

In a rush of emotions that he knows he's going to regret later, Wilbur steals his father's horse and rides into town alone, a small pouch of coin burning a hole in his pocket. Tommy yells after him as he leaves, the thirteen year old rightfully upset at the prospect of being abandoned by yet another brother, and Wilbur ignores him. 

The roof is exactly as he remembers it, though he's able to dangle his feet without fear now, just as Schlatt had. The cookies are much too sweet for him now, much to his disappointment, but he tucks them into his pocket with a mental note to offer them to Tommy as an apology. 

"Well shit," the creaking of wood alerts Wilbur to a presence before he hears the voice, "You're real." Though a bit older, his horns much more pronounced, a familiar boy sat down next to him. "Honestly I thought I was fuckin' seeing things as a kid."

Wilbur chuckles, though it lacks any mirth, and shakes his head. "I'm as real as you are." He does his best to look anywhere other than the recruitment office across the street from them, he fails. 

"Well you've certainly gotten more cryptic," Schlatt scoffs, "You here with your dad again?" 

"Don't wanna talk about it," the response comes out shorter than he intended, "Still wanna give me that tour?" 

Schlatt laughs, much louder than he had as a kid, and claps Wilbur hard on the shoulder as he stands, "Why not? 'S not like anyone else is gonna do it." 

They walk slowly, Wilbur attempting to break into a jog occasionally and Schlatt simply cuffing him over the head and continuing at his steady pace; Schlatt points out each building and statue as they go. Occasionally he offers his own opinions on things - "She's a  _ way  _ better baker than everyone else, but she's our age so no one will say it." - but primarily he just recites old superstitions and stories that he'd apparently heard from his neighbors. 

The horned boy eventually leads him down to the harbor and pulls him toward one of the many street vendors. "They sell these lanterns you can float on the water," Schlatt explains as he passes the vendor a handful of silver, "Thought you'd get a kick out of them, you seem like an artsy type of dude." 

And he's right, the lanterns are made of thin paper and decorated with delicately painted flowers, their gentle flames allowing them to float just above the murky water of the harbor. Wilbur finds himself utterly entranced by the gentle way that the lanterns bob in the air, unable to look away as Schlatt pushes another one out into the water. 

"This is-" Wilbur can't find words to describe it, "Where do they even go?" 

Schlatt shrugs, taking a swig from his drink, "No idea. I think they dissolve then the fire goes out and they touch the water." He chuckles, face twisting into an unreadable expression, "'S probably a metaphor in there somewhere." 

Not for the first time that day Wilbur notices a flicker of sadness cross Schlatt's dark eyes, it had happened earlier in the day as well when the other boy had stumbled and nearly fallen. When Wilbur attempted to help him up Schlatt had snarled at him, muttering something about 'not needing pity' before continuing the tour without addressing anything. 

The clink of Schlatt's empty bottle against the dock stirs something in his mind. "Aren't you like sixteen?" The other boy gives him a look that vaguely translates to ' _ duh?'  _ and Wilbur raises an eyebrow. "Who the hell is selling you beer?" 

"Ha!" Schlatt barks out a laugh before inclining his head in a 'fair enough' sort of movement. "The distiller's kid is a friend of mine, so I get a family discount." 

"That includes breaking the law?" 

"Maybe," the other boy shrugs and tosses his empty bottle into the water. He's silent for a moment, then huffs out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. "Nah, its - it's a bit messier than that." 

"What, are you dying or something?" Wilbur jokes. In response, Schlatt deflates, and Wilbur's heart jumps into his throat. "Wait really? I'm sorry man, I shouldn't have-"

"It's fine!" Schlatt cuts him off with a tired laugh, "I'm not really  _ dying.  _ I'm just . . . fuck, how do I explain it?" 

Then, as if a light has switched on in his brain, Schlatt's eyes light up and he turns to face his companion, he stretches his legs out in front of him and rolls his pant legs up just above his knees. 

"What the hell?" The words slip out before Wilbur can catch them as he stares down at Schlatt’s bruise-mottled legs, some bruises so dark that they were almost black against his pale skin. "Did your-"

"Nah," Schlatt reassures him, "They say its a bloodline thing, 'parently my dad had it too." He runs a hand over his knee and suddenly Wilbur realizes that the bruises aren't the worst part. The bones of Schlatt's legs are misshapen, as though they'd been broken and reset incorrectly. 

"It won't kill me," the other boy says, "But I probably won't be able to walk without crutches or something pretty soon. 'S gonna suck." 

"Does it hurt?" Because by the gods it  _ looked  _ like it hurt; suddenly Wilbur feels  _ awful  _ for trying to goad Schlatt into jogging with him. 

"Oh yeah," Schlatt laughs again, "It's fucking  _ excruciating _ . But -" he reaches into his small satchel and produces another bottle of beer, "- this helps take the edge off." 

"That can't be-" 

"Healthy?" The horned boy interjects, "It's definitely not, but nothin' else helps. So," he cracks the bottle open against the edge of the dock and takes a swig, "this is what I've got." 

Wilbur's heart aches and he begins to rifle through his own satchel; finally he produces the small map that his father insisted his son's carry at all times. He hands it to Schlatt with what he hopes is a kind smile, "My brother left some old ass moonshine when he left, you should visit sometime." Of course he has ulterior motives, Phil is a damn good healer after all, but he truly does want to see Schlatt again. 

"Damn," Schlatt examines the map with a bemused smile, "You weren't kidding when you said you lived in the middle of nowhere." He remains quiet for a moment, save for the sound of liquid sloshing as he drank, before snorting quietly and nodding and tucking the map into his satchel. "Yeah, alright. I can only get out of here at night though," he warns, "So you'd better be awake when I visit." 

Grinning, Wilbur nods and bumps his shoulder against Schlatt's, similar to how he and Tommy communicate. "I'll be awake, I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little context here: I have a heacannon that the reason Schlatt drinks so much and does so many steroids is to try can cope with a chronic illness he suffers from. This specific illness doesn't exist to my knowledge, but I'm using my own chronic illness as a reference point lol.


	3. Friends

The tree bark cracks under the force of his fist, pain shooting up his arm and into his shoulder as he winds back yet again. Wilbur lets out a desperate yell and punches the tree yet again, sure he was going to break his fingers this time. He'd never had the best coping mechanisms, but this was new. 

Soft footsteps alert him to his company before they speak, the uneven steps and the sounds gentle clicking of metal bringing a soft smile to his lips. Schlatt leans against a nearby tree trunk casually, he cocks his head in a question as Wilbur reels back and lays into the tree yet again. 

"Hey, loverboy." The horned teen calls.

"Hey, Schlatt." Wilbur growls in response, his knuckles are dripping with blood and his wrist is starting to go numb. He keeps punching. "You're early." 

Schlatt chuckles, "And you've lost your mind, so we're even." He slides down the trunk to sit in the grass. "Any particular reason you're abusing trees?" 

_ There are hundreds of reasons, _ Wilbur thinks bitterly,  _ but who fucking cares _ . He shakes his head and sits next to Schlatt, flopping onto the grass with a heavy sigh. 

"Don't wanna talk about it." He says instead. 

His companion inclined his head with a smile, "Fair enough." He cracks open a bottle from his bag and offers it, "'s not alcohol, don't worry." 

"Wish it was," Wilbur mutters, taking the drink with a quiet acknowledgement. 

Schlatt narrows his eyes, giving Wilbur a once over before shrugging and producing a second bottle. "If you're sure." He holds it out, completely unopened, with an unspoken question. 

' _ Is it worth it?'  _

Fuck it. Wilbur takes the beer and cracks it open, just as he'd seen Schlatt do a thousand times over. He takes a heavy swig of the liquid and fights back a cough as it burns a track down his throat. " _ Fuck." _

The other teen nods sympathetically, taking a sip from Wilbur's abandoned drink. "Yea, it's bad isn't it?" he chuckles, "Connor finally took over his dad's business and it's been . . .  _ Interesting _ ."

In only a few moments, Wilbur drains the bottle and tosses it out into the darkness of the forest. Silently, Schlatt passes him another bottle with the same label. He polishes off four beers before Schlatt begins to hand him sweet, non-alcoholic drinks with a tired but knowing look. 

"Wanna talk about it now?" The alcohol sits warm and heavy in Wilbur’s stomach, blunting the sharp edges of his thoughts. For a moment, Wilbur understands Schlatt.

". . . yeah." Wilbur huffs an angry breath through his nose, sounding not unlike his twin, to his dismay. "Told you about my brothers, right?"

"Yeah," Schlatt squints as he thinks, "You've got a twin and some kid your dad found in the woods, right?" 

Wilbur nods, "m' twin went off to join some lord's military," He growls, "Didn't even  _ tell me _ before he was riding off into the fucking sunset. Dunno if I’ll even see the fucker again." 

"What, he just left without sayin’ anythin’? And your dad just let that shit happen?" Schlatt takes a swig of his drink and scoffs, "What the  _ fuck _ ?"

" _ Exactly _ !" Wilbur cries, "Dad knew what he was doing, and didn't tell  _ any  _ of us! I get not telling Tommy because he's a kid, but  _ me?!  _ He's my  _ twin fucking brother!"  _ His eyes burn and his voice shakes; Wilbur can feel the tears behind his eyes, holding them back with sheer anger.

Schlatt's quiet for a moment before he throws an arm around Wilbur's shoulders and pulls him close. The other boy's sweater is soft and welcoming, Wilbur finds himself wrapping his arms around Schlatt's waist and sniffling as the anger begins to give way to fear and worry. 

"Come on, loverboy." Schlatt hugs Wilbur close, "Just fuckin' cry. It'll help, promise." His voice is soft and his words practiced, as though he had done this many times before. 

And just like that, the floodgates open and Wilbur begins to sob. He fists his hands in the soft material of Schlatt's sweater as the horned teen runs his hands through his hair gently. It reminds him so much of his father and the tears gain a renewed strength. 

" _ Fuck."  _

"I know man," Schlatt's voice is gentle and vibrates through his chest where Wilbur's cheek lays, "I know."

"This is so fucking  _ stupid _ ," Wilbur growls, his words muffled as his face remains firmly planted in Schlatt's chest. "I hate this." He feels like a fucking  _ child _ , crying in the woods instead of acting like an adult. Somewhere in his mind a voice mutters  _ ‘Phil wouldn't be proud of this’  _ and Wilbur growls again. 

His companion laughs, "Wil, we're  _ nineteen.  _ Of  _ course _ this is fuckin' stupid." A gentle hand cups the back of his head and lifts Wilbur's gaze, "Doesn't mean it sucks any less." Schlatt’s eyes are uncharacteristically honest and ungarded as he smiles.

In lieu of a proper response, Wilbur sniffles once more and tucks his head back into Schlatt's chest. His friend chuckles but doesn't push him away, the gentle hand in his hair ever present as Wilbur just  _ cries _ . 

Eventually, when Wilbur's eyes are sore and his throat aches from the cool air, he lifts his gaze and meet's Schlatt's eyes. "Please don't leave me alone," Wilbur murmurs, the alcohol slurring his words slightly, "Don't wanna be alone again." He'll regret those words, when he's sober and has a handle on his emotions again, but right now? Right now Wilbur needs  _ someone  _ to  _ stay _ . 

Schlatt gives him a sad smile, as though he knows something Wilbur doesn't, and nods, "I ain't goin' anywhere, loverboy."

"You promise?" 

"Yeah," Schlatt lays a quick kiss into Wilbur's hair, "I promise." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, the whole "loverboy" and head kiss is entirely platonic. I picked the nickname up from a fantastic animatic, and I like to write male friendships as affectionate as I can. Just wanted to make sure that was clear! 
> 
> Check out the animatic I was talking about: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AkKITzhskNY  
> Its absolutely wonderful and deserves a lot more love!


	4. Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, I changed it to six total chapters because that's what I figure is gonna happen, but who knows lol.

“You’re _what?_ ” Schlatt’s eyes narrow as he adjusts his posture to meet Wilbur’s eyes, the man’s grip on his beer tightens almost imperceptibly, claws creaking against the glass faintly. 

“I’m leaving,” Wilbur says again, “Tommy and I are going south,” He shrugs, picking at the seams of his new jacket, “There's nothing for us here.” He doesn't meet Schlatt’s gaze, eyes firmly focused on the grass between them. 

Schlatt is quiet for a moment, Wilbur wondering if perhaps his friend was going to take the news better than he'd thought, then he sniffs loudly and tosses his beer aside. “No, yeah,” he gestures between himself and Wilbur, “ _Nothing._ Makes sense.” 

“Schlatt, that's not-” Wilbur reaches out in an attempt at reassurance before Schlatt interrupts him.

“Oh, isn't it?!” The horned man cries, flinging his arms wide as he makes his point. “All these years, and I don't mean _shit_ to you, do I?” Schlatt’s crying, Wilbur realizes with a start, chest shuddering under the sheer force of his emotions. He’d forgotten about this side of the alcohol. 

Sighing, Wilbur moves to sit at Schlatt’s side, paying no mind to the half-hearted growl directed at him. He presses their shoulders together and takes one of Schlatt’s hands into his own. Wilbur was never the best at the whole comfort thing, that’d always been his father’s thing, but he tries his best to smile gently as Schlatt glares at him. 

“That’s not what I meant,” He says softly, “You know you mean a lot to me.” Schlatt’s shoulder jumps slightly as he snorts in response. “I mean it! You’ve been my only friend for literal _years_ , I don't know what I would do without you.”

“You’re still leaving,” Schlatt mutters, he sounds so _small_ and Wilbur’s chest _aches_. 

“Yeah,” Wilbur agrees quietly, “Tommy and I can’t be here anymore, we’ve got to move on.” It's a cheap shot, using Tommy to get Schlatt’s approval, and Wilbur knows it. But it’s all he has. “Dad always said we were born to explore.”

Schlatt chuckles, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his sweater, “Tommy couldn't _explore_ his way out of a paper bag, and you know it.”

“Can't argue with you there,” Wilbur snorts, “Kid’s shit with directions, ‘S why I have to go with him.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Schlatt shakes his head with a knowing smile, “You've made your point; ‘M not pissed anymore.” He leans against Wilbur’s shoulder with the majority of his weight and gives a shaky sigh, “I _will_ be pissed if you don't send me letters though, don't fucking ghost me while you’re gone.”

“Needy?” Wilbur jokes, nudging Schlatt with his elbow as the other rolls his eyes. “I’ll send you a letter whenever something cool happens, sound fair?”

“Sure,” Schlatt turns to look Wilbur directly in the eyes and frowns, “But, if you miss even a _month_ I swear to every god listening that I will _walk_ to _wherever_ you are and kick your ass.” He gestures vaguely to his leg braces to emphasize his point. “Sound fair?”

Wilbur laughs and rolls his eyes far too fondly, “Sounds very fair.”

“‘M gonna miss you,” Schlatt mutters after a beat of silence, “‘s gonna be boring as hell without you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Wilbur responds, “I’ll come back to visit someday.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Schlatt. We’ll see each other again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but definitely not sweet. Not super happy with this one, but its the eighth draft so I doubt I'll ever be happy with it lol. Thank you for reading!


	5. Estranged

Schlatt is taller when Wilbur next sees him - nearly the same height as Tommy - and his horns have been sharpened to points. The other man had always told Wilbur that he didn't like sharpening them, as it made him look like even more of a “monster” than usual; he’d never really understood what Schlatt meant by that. But, looking up at the man in his perfectly creased business attire, the points of his horns catching the light as he spoke, a part of Wilbur understands if even for a moment. 

Despite their time apart, Schlatt offers his friend a cheeky grin and pulls him into a near-suffocating hug as though it had been hours instead of years. He slaps Wilbur’s shoulder as they part, still grinning, “You’ve certainly been busy, loverboy.” his expression darkens for a split second, “Was wondering why you hadn’t written.”

Wilbur chuckles and brushes past the accusation gracefully, “I have, I have,” he gestures around L’manburg, “Created a whole country! With Tommy’s help of course,” the older man adds as Tommy opens his mouth to correct him.

Wilbur ushers his brother off in the direction of Tubbo and offers his arm to Schlatt with a smile, “Care for a tour?” He rolls his eyes but accepts Wilbur’s arm nonetheless, and it is as though nothing has changed. 

* * *

“So,” Schlatt swirls the wine in his glass leisurely, “You want _me_ to endorse you as president of a nation that _you_ created?” Wilbur nods. “Why even have an election? You’re basically the rightful ruler anyway.”

“It's about freedom,” Wilbur replies, “I lead a revolution for freedom from shit governments, so I can’t just install myself as president without _some_ sort of democracy. Y’know?”

“You have an election to ensure you’re democratically elected for your new ‘free’ country, but you’re also the only party that people can vote for.” The horned man chuckles and shakes his head, “It's underhanded and sneaky, but it could work.”

“It _will_ work,” Schlatt eyes him strangely as Wilbur raises his voice, “Tommy and I are the only ones that are running - hell the only ones that have the _balls_ to run - and no one else will be able to get people on their side even if they oppose us.”

The horned man’s eyes flash dangerously, “Then why do you need me?”

“You’ve always been a better businessman and politician than me-” Schlatt snorts, “-and I know that you can convince anyone who opposes Tommy and I to stand down.” Wilbur’s lips twist into a self-satisfied smile, “It's foolproof.”

“Maybe,” Schlatt inclines his wineglass before downing the contents as though it were a shot, “I’m in. I have a feeling that this will be fun.”

Overjoyed, Wilbur claps his hands and grins widely, “Great! I’ll speak to Tommy and arrange your endorsement speech in the morning!” He shakes Schlatt’s freehand firmly, “This it going to be _amazing_.” His friend regards him with an unreadable expression, though his lips twist into a smile as he nods in agreement.

* * *

Ice settles in Wilbur’s veins, staring down at the election results in abject horror; his fingers shake as he copies the numbers onto a smaller piece of parchment and tucks it into the front pocket of his uniform. Schlatt refuses to meet his gaze all day, his lips pulled into a disturbing grin as though he already knows. It makes Wilbur’s skin crawl, and his eyes burn, as he sits alone in his office in the dead of night.

He should be asleep - or at home at the very least, he hasn’t had a proper dinner with his son in weeks - but he cannot bring himself to stop staring blankly down at his hands. Schlatt was his friend - practically a brother - and the man had betrayed him the moment an opportunity presented itself. Had he always been like that? So cunning and cruel as to steal a man’s home right out from under him, without that man even noticing? Or had Wilbur lost his touch? Gotten complacent and stupid, as Techno so often warned him would happen? 

Finally Wilbur sighs and stands from his desk, parchment carefully placed in his pocket. He heads home and throws his uniform jacket on the back of a chair, doing his absolute best to ignore the gnawing fear in the pit of his stomach. Everything would be fine, he knew that. Schlatt is a good friend and a better businessman, he has a plan and he will _not_ betray Wilbur. He drifts to sleep sure of this fact.


	6. Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short but painful, my new motto with these apparently lol

“Hey,  _ loverboy _ .” Blood drips from cracked lips as Schlatt grins up at Wilbur from the floor of the camper. “You’re early.”

Wilbur drops into a crouch, regarding his former friend with a cold gaze, “And you’ve finally overdone it, so we’re even.” He surveys their surroundings, his lips curling in disgust at the sheer amount of empty bottles that cover every surface in the camper. 

“Nah,” Schlatt scoffs, “’M fine, just tired; arm fell asleep a while ago.” 

The ‘president’ snarls something at Quackity and tosses an empty bottle at the other man in his anger, but Wilbur’s gaze remains focused on Schlatt’s dull eyes. The horned man’s face looks . . . odd, half of it is beginning to sag as though the muscles had ceased working and his eyes are so clouded that Wilbur can barely see his pupils. Schlatt continues to argue with Quackity and snarl insults at Fundy, smashing glass bottles to accentuate his points, seemingly totally oblivious to his current affliction. 

Then, he pauses and blinks as though he has just noticed something. “Wait,” Schlatt stares up at Wilbur once again with an odd expression, “Do you smell something burning?” His eyes dart around the room before returning to Wilbur, and finally he manages to put a name to the look in Schlatt’s eyes, fear.

“Wil?” His voice is soft and weak, carrying emotions that Wilbur would rather not dwell on.

“Schlatt?” Before he can say anything Schlatt’s body seizes violently, before falling limply against the wall with a disconcerting thump. One look into his eyes confirms what Wilbur already knows, the man is dead. His eyes are dull and devoid of life, staring up at Wilbur with an echo of the fear Schlatt had felt before his heart finally gave up. 

Wilbur sighs heavily, “Goodbye Schlatt.”  _ ‘See you soon,’  _ he adds silently as he slips out of the camper unnoticed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh so there's gonna be one last chapter because i cannot control myself lol. thank you for reading this far and i hope you enjoyed!


End file.
